


Hump Day

by emmykay



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Fight Sex, Fights, Frottage, Knifeplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 09:20:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2542373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmykay/pseuds/emmykay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The weird aura of the new camp is getting to everybody, even seasoned third-years like themselves.  Tajima thinks something's up with Hanai, and Hanai can't convince him otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hump Day

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!
> 
> Part of a larger series of the Oofuri Haunted Camp, on which I'm collaborating with [suddenlygamtav](http://archiveofourown.org/users/suddenlygamtav/pseuds/suddenlygamtav) and [kikuningyou.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kikuningyou)

Hanai stumbled out of the bedroom he had shared with Tajima and into the large communal kitchen area, feeling like he'd been slammed in the face by a great big door. He stared blearily at Oki, who was manning the toaster, bravely, like it seemed, he had been doing for the entire week. Nishihiro was putting out the tea things. Neither of them seemed interested in engaging him. Weird.

"What day is it?" Hanai asked.

Nishihiro said, nervously, "Thursday."

Thursday. That meant half of training week was almost over. What the hell had happened to all that time? A few bright pieces of cloth were flung over the broken rail of the lanai. They kind of looked like the clothing he and Tajima were wearing yesterday. Was that _his_ blue t-shirt? He went over and picked it up. It looked like his shirt, only the soft, worn cotton was torn up the front, rendering it little better than a rag. On the inside tag was scrawled "Hanai." This was his shirt all right.

Hanai only noticed then Oki's almost compulsive looking at him and then looking away. 

"What?" he asked.

"You - you've got some marks - " Oki said, and then made a vague circling gesture in the vicinity of his own neck.

His neck did feel kind of raw. Hanai turned around and went to the only place with a mirror - the bathroom. In the mirror, he saw that his neck looked like it had been seriously chewed on, and in horror, he pulled down the collar of his sleeping shirt and saw several scratches across his sternum. What the hell was going on?

There had been some odd things happening this week. Monday was the thing with Abe and Mihashi, something terrible had happened on Tuesday whose memory he was still afraid to touch, and last night there was this.

"Morning!" said Tajima, slapping Hanai's back, his voice chipper.

In the mirror, their eyes met and the memories began flooding back. "Holy shit," Hanai said, and dropped his head into his hands.

* * *

It was a night like the others, they had eaten in the large dining room in the other building, helped clean up, and returned to their cabin.

After discussion of the day's practice, they turned in. 

It was very dark when Hanai woke up out of a sound, solid sleep. He rolled over and tried to ignore it, but he couldn't. He had to go to the bathroom.

After he was done, he washed his hands in the sink. He looked up quickly, reflexively, and saw a face in the mirror. He gasped, and turned, hands raised. 

"Oh, Tajima!" Hanai said, gasping with relief. "It's just you." He felt silly, Tajima didn't often look so fierce. Tajima had had a growth spurt towards the end of last year, and had gone up several centimeters, which made him also feel a little less familiar, less like the Tajima Hanai had known for so long. "I didn't hardly recognize you in the mirror."

"Whatcha doing up now, huh, Hanai?" Tajima asked, in a way Hanai felt was a little forward for the middle of the night.

"I had to piss," Hanai said, confused. "What're you doing up?" he countered.

"Don'tcha think it's weird, you know, all the stuff that's been happening in the cabin since we got here?"

Hanai felt his face twitch. "I've been hearing you guys talk about how gross and sticky everything is since the beginning of the week. What else?"

"I don't know," Tajima's eyes narrowed. "Why're you asking?"

"Tajima," Hanai said, with some exasperation.

"Hanai," Tajima mimicked his tone. 

"What's going on?"

"Why don't you tell me," Tajima challenged, stepping in closely. Even with Tajima's growth spurt, Hanai had remained a half a head taller, and oddly, found this to be reassuring in the face of Tajima's aggression. Still, he found himself backing up against the sink.

"Nothing's going on," Hanai said.

"You don't think the sticky residue that doesn't go away now matter how much we clean, the weird noises coming out of Abe and Mihashi's room, the fact that my box of stuff went missing, and the way Mizutani's been acting recently is anything. And nobody's remembering anything! It's like - like group amnesia!"

Hanai scratched his head. "I mean - "

"Yes - that's exactly what I've been thinking. Somebody or something is doing a number on us in the middle of the night."

"Who do you think it is?" Hanai tried to humor him.

"You don't really know?" Tajima asked. Dark brown eyes peered deeply at Hanai's face.

Hanai's eyebrows drew together. "You don't think I - "

"It's like zombies, or ghost possession!"

An incredulous noise slipped out of Hanai's mouth as he settled back against the sink.

"Show me that you didn't - "

"Tajima, this is ridiculous. Nobody has ever known what the hell has been going on with Abe and Mihashi since they joined the team, I don't like the stickiness either, and for the last time, I don't know anything about your box of stuff! We've been sharing a room this whole time and you can't tell me I've done _anything_ that would make you suspect - "

"I suppose not," Tajima said, settling back against the wall tiles opposite Hanai.

"All right, then." Hanai walked out of the room, and feeling thirsty, he slipped to the side of the door and walked down to the kitchen.

Tajima followed, and before he could accuse Hanai again, Hanai grasped Tajima and put him into a headlock.

"Why're you following me?" Hanai asked.

"Because you could be doing any of that stuff!"

"How do I know you're NOT doing those things and pinning them on me?" Hanai countered.

"You don't!" Tajima choked out, flailing. His hand reached out, fingertips on the edge of the knife block and tipped it over, grabbing the 8-inch chef knife. Hanai hastily released him and stepped away, bumping up against the kitchen counter. Tajima held the knife, point-first, toward Hanai. "Why'd you do that, Hanai?"

Hanai, in retaliation, yanked open the drawer and without looking, came up a butter knife. "Fuck. No good." Tajima was smiling at him, a little menace in his eyes. With a swift glance downward, Hanai grabbed the next gleaming thing with an edge - a 4-inch steak knife. "This is ridiculous," Hanai said, comparing the two knives to Tajima's monster. He dropped his, with a clatter, back onto the counter. This wasn't going to help.

"Hanai would never do that!"

"Hell, yeah, I would," Hanai countered. "I just did."

"Tell me who you are and why you're possessing Hanai!" yelled Tajima. He thrust the knife forward, Hanai dodged with an awkward backward leap, stumbling over the chairs in the dining set. Finding himself up against the table, Hanai leapt on it, and then flipped off the opposite end as Tajima lunged.

Tajima grabbed a chair one-handed and flung it toward Hanai, who ducked. The chair tore through the mosquito netting, splintering where it met the hard corner of wall.

Hanai escaped through the tear, only to be roughly tackled by Tajima, landing hard against the grass lawn, the smaller body pressing him down against the ground with surprising strength. Maybe not so surprising. Tajima was a powerhouse in a smaller package. 

"You bastard, what have you done with my Hanai?"

"Your Hanai?" Hanai asked, surprised. "It's me, Tajima! I am Hanai!" He looked up at Tajima's eyes. "Believe me!"

The full moon above illuminated the sky, and while much of Tajima's face was obscured, Hanai could still discern swimming moisture in Tajima's eyes, and suddenly, Tajima's face lunged downward, hard and focused. "You're not going to remember anyway," he muttered, "but I've always wanted this." Then he settled his lips, warm, soft, gentle, against Hanai's. 

Hanai would have reacted, by moving away, but he was trapped between Tajima's body, the knife in Tajima's hand, and the earth below. 

Tajima's lips moved, and he lapped, just a little, at Hanai's lower lip. It felt astoundingly right. 

Hanai responded in the only way he could, softening his jaw and opening his mouth, welcoming Tajima. As Tajima leaned in, Hanai caught his hands and bit at Tajima's mouth and chin. Tajima had the beginnings of stubble and his skin tasted salty with an underlying tang. Hanai couldn't get enough. It appeared Tajima felt the same way, as he moved his mouth downward, biting, licking and then chewing at Hanai's neck. Adrenaline and hormones and the memory of night after night of listening to Tajima's disturbingly audible masturbation surged, hard and hot, against his skin, his veins and bones. 

Hard silver gleamed in the moonlight as the Tajima jerked his hand away from Hanai's, lifting the knife up high. Then Tajima lifted his torso, knees digging into the ground, his center of gravity shifting up against Hanai's hips. He slid the blade up under the edge of Hanai's t-shirt sleeve, at his stomach, and pulled upward, recklessly hacking the worn cotton off Hanai's shivering body. 

Hanai felt the contours of Tajima's body change inside the soft sleeping pants. He felt his own body respond, eagerly, and he thrust his hips upward against Tajima's. Tajima placed the blade against Hanai's cheek, sliding it downward until it bit into the side of his neck, the cool, sleek-feeling steel a stark contrast to the warm muscled body above him. 

"I could kill you now," Tajima said, his voice measured and cold, in a way Hanai had never imagined. To Hanai's shame, he felt himself get harder. "I've wanted to fuck you since first year." 

"Yes," Hanai said, breathing hard. "Do it."

Tajima took the knife, lifted it again, lips stretched into a horrible grimace. 

Hanai's eyes widened. 

Then Tajima stabbed it hard into the ground next to Hanai's head. Tajima grasped Hanai's face and kissed it, thoroughly, messily, spit and tongue and heat and fear and urgency all mixing into an intoxicating cocktail.

Hanai reached up and around Tajima's back. He slid his hands under Tajima's shirt, shocked at the suppleness of the skin underneath, the shapeliness of the muscles, the bumps of spine as he flexed with each movement.

Tajima and Hanai ground against each other, mindless, filthy, groaning, and then, Tajima pulled away. 

"What - "

Tajima came back, naked. He pulled at Hanai's clothes until they were both completely naked on the grass under the silver moonlight, lying on the wreckage of Hanai's clothes. They moved against each other, aching flesh against aching flesh, bodies slickened by spit and sweat, which made it better and so much worse. It was amazing, dirty, uncomfortable, and so fucking hot Hanai thought he would die if he didn't come immediately. 

Tajima had always been cute, adorable, always something diminutive. Someone to watch, watch out for, to guard and guard against - Hanai knew his role as eldest child, captain, senior. But in the moonlight, set aglow in gold and silver, Tajima took on a grander aura, he seemed to expand in the elements, and Hanai couldn't help it. "Holy shit, Tajima, you're gorgeous."

Tajima paused and said, his voice thick with sex and longing, "I know you're not the real Hanai. I'm going to pretend that you are, cause I want what you said to be true." Then he reached down, grasped both himself and Hanai in a firm, calloused hand and stroked, deliberately. 

The pressure at the base of Hanai's dick, which had been building and building, suddenly sparked and blew up. Hanai gasped, he needed something to hold, he began to shake. He looked to his side, grabbed the knife handle and held on for dear life.

Tajima's eyes sparkled, like they always did - like this was the best moment of his life ever. With a cry, like he was in the best and worst pain of his life, Hanai crested. Howling,Tajima came along with him.

Tajima cuddled against Hanai, breathing in deeply, his back warm and sweaty, his frantic heartbeat slowing. Their fronts were incredibly sticky. Neither of them cared.

Hanai released the knife with a sigh, his hand coming to stroke Tajima's back. That was fucking amazing. And he sure as shit was going to remember tomorrow. 

* * *

"Hanai?" Tajima asked, voice a little wobbly, the reflection of his eyes in the mirror uncertain.

He looked at Tajima and saw the uncertainty. Hanai smiled and reached over, bringing Tajima up against his side. "Good morning," he said. He lowered his face into Tajima's morning-mussed hair, and sniffed deeply of the scent of sleep, dirt, grass, and sex. All the good things.

Tajima's answering smile wreathed his entire face like sunshine. "Good morning."

Whatever freaky shit had happened and was going to happen this week at this weird-ass camp, Hanai couldn't help smiling. Because it was.


End file.
